


Castor et Pollux

by aquilaofarkham



Category: Assassin's Creed, Assassin's Creed III - Fandom
Genre: 18th Century, Culture Shock, Fashion & Couture, Gen, Operas, Paris (City), Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Post-Assassin's Creed III, pre-revolutionary France
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:39:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquilaofarkham/pseuds/aquilaofarkham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor and the Marquis de Lafayette attend a French opera in Paris before the revolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Castor et Pollux

Connor had never been to an opera or any other sort of European theatre production, but he knew a fair amount about them. The Davenport Manor library seemed to have books on every possible subject in the world. Almost every day he would dive into each one, filling his head with an endless supply of knowledge, whether some of it proved to be useful in the future or not.

While he found the history of opera interesting, Connor never planned to attend one for two reasons. First: Boston and New York were not exactly well known for their theatres. At the very least, there were none big enough to stage any of the epic and grand-scale classics he learned about. Second: Connor knew he wouldn’t fit in. Operas were opulent, meant for the nobility of England, France, Germany, and Italy. He told himself that if he ever attended one, he would most likely attract attention for all the wrong reasons. In the end, Connor felt content enough to read about them.

Then he accepted the Marquis de Lafayette’s most generous invitation: a trip to Paris with the offer of meeting his family and getting to know the city a little better. Connor had only known the man for a short amount of time and while they were close acquaintances, the proposal took him by surprise. Still, after thinking everything through, he couldn’t find it within himself to refuse.

The thought of being in such a foreign place did seem intimidating, but Connor was confident in Lafayette’s capabilities as his chaperon. Luckily for him, his friend was more than prepared for his visit.

Connor stood in front of the mirror, fixing his red cravat for the umpteenth time while the Marquis, already dressed in his finer threads, waited patiently. “Maybe I should stay here,” he sighed, giving up.

“Absolutely not. I won’t have you cooped up in here and miss the entire performance.” Lafayette replied. “Here, allow me.” He walked over, turning Connor around, and helped straighten out the cravat.

“Adrienne can go with you.”

“I told you, Adrienne offered to look after the children tonight. Do you not like opera, Connor?”

He paused for a moment, unsure of what to say. “I… I have never seen one.”

“Then this will be an excellent first experience for you. _Et voilà!_ ” Lafayette exclaimed, patting his friend’s shoulders. “Handsome as ever.”

Connor took one last glance at himself in the mirror. He wasn’t fully satisfied but he didn’t want to keep Lafayette waiting for much longer. All Connor needed to do was add the final component to his outfit: a thick reddish blanket. Draping it over his left shoulder, he then firmly tied it in place just above his hips.

He had seen the same style of clothing many times, mostly in paintings that showed men just like him; Mohawks, Senecas, Oneidas, and those outside of the Six Nations such as the Abenaki. Seeing them always filled him with a sense of connection that felt surprisingly jarring. But his favourites were the ones of Thayendanegea, also known by loyalists and patriots alike as Joseph Brant. While he unfortunately never got a chance to meet with him face to face, he held a deep respect and admiration for the chief.

Connor learned a lot from the paintings. He noticed the striking differences between those created during the war and those afterwards. In earlier ones, Thayendanegea dressed like a British man while in recent ones, he wore clothing belonging to the Mohawk Nation. Connor understood why. Throughout the revolution, he would sometimes wear colonial clothes not just to fit in, but also to show respect towards his allies. Then when the fighting ended and the so-called founding fathers revealed their true colours, Connor stopped trying to appease them. After what they did, why should he continue to show any respect?

Clothing could send a very powerful message of resistance and he took that to heart. Once the British left America, Connor took every opportunity to show how proud he was of his heritage through dress. Deerskin moccasins, beaded armbands, feathers in his hair, everything meant something important and personal. It was a way of speaking directly to American officials, a way of saying, “I am still here. My people are still here.”

Mentally repeating that statement did help Connor relax a little bit, but he still felt a twinge of nervousness. The opera was going to be filled with people and he wasn’t sure if a semi-confident stature was going to be enough. After saying goodbye to Adrienne and the children, he and Lafayette left their home, stepping to a carriage that had been waiting for them. Connor was thankful to have a friend who was so well versed in French etiquette accompanying him.

“You mustn’t worry too much, _mon ami_ ,” Lafayette said, sensing his uneasiness. “Have I ever told you about my younger years?”

“I do not think you have. But I am sure you were very charming.”

As the carriage bumped up and down, Lafayette let out a hearty laugh. “You are being far too kind, Connor! Oh, how I wished I was charming and eloquent.”

“I do not believe that.”

“It’s true! I was incredibly awkward. At age seventeen, I attended this lavish ball hosted by Marie Antoinette and I danced so poorly, I couldn’t stop tripping over my own feet. The Queen of France herself laughed at me until she was out of breath.”

Connor held back on chuckling at Lafayette’s unfortunate story. “I am sorry you had to be subject to that.”

“ _Oui_ , it was humiliating. But I have left all of that in the past. Now I live with a much more confidant demeanour and even the Queen barely remembers a thing!”

“I suppose that is the most important thing,” Connor replied in jest. He wasn’t sure if Lafayette was trying to give him some advice, but it was nice to have a good laugh.

As dusk turned into night, the carriage pulled up in front of the Opéra-Comique. Connor wasn’t familiar with _Castor et Pollux_ but judging from the crowds already heading inside, he guessed that it was a rather popular opera.

Once the two men followed everyone else up the steps and into the building, he was immediately bombarded with a scene of great opulence and extravagance. All the attendees were dressed in their most decadent clothes while the theatre itself was so large, so ornate; Connor felt overwhelmed, even a little dazed everywhere he looked. The entire experience was very similar to when he first walked through the streets of Boston many years before.

Then he began to notice the stray glances and double takes from various people. Staying close to Lafayette, he ignored them and focused on what was ahead of him. The quicker they got away from the growing crowds, the better.

“How are you feeling?” Lafayette asked once they found their seats.

“Fine…” Connor sighed. They were lucky to have a private booth close to the stage. It gave him enough time to relax and prepare for the upcoming hours.

It was indeed a very long performance. At times it was difficult to understand the story or what the characters were saying. Connor’s grasp on the French language was relatively good but he had never heard it sung in such a manner before. After the first two acts were over, he found it better to simply sit back and allow the whole spectacle to wash over him.

Yet there was one scene that stood out for Connor. Only one of the actors was on stage, surrounded by darkly painted stars and clouds. The song she sang wasn’t grand or triumphant; it was sad. Everything seemed melancholic. Her voice, her costume, and especially in the way she carried herself. Connor didn’t know why this particular scene grabbed him, but something about it set it apart from the rest of the opera. It was tragic, yes, but also humbling.

Even when it was over and everyone started to leave after a standing ovation, Connor couldn’t stop thinking about the song. Its’ sombre melody and the actress’ voice still played in his head. He didn’t mind. In a way, it was calming and oddly pleasant to listen to.

“What did you think?” Lafayette asked as they walked back outside. Connor tried to find the appropriate words to describe his mixed opinion.

“It was… interesting.”

“Only that?”

“You said it before, this was just my first experience with French opera. But I found some parts enjoyable. What about you?”

“I thought it was magnificent! I have always found Greek mythology to be a fascinating and timeless subject.”

Connor smiled. There seemed to be no end to his bouts of enthusiasm. “Lafayette?”

“ _Oui?_ ”

“Thank you for inviting me to Paris.”

“You are most welcome, _mon ami._ ” Lafayette replied with an even bigger smile. Connor meant what he said. He missed the Homestead and his recruits, but a trip outside of America was what he needed. Entering the carriage with the song still on his mind, he hoped to see Paris again sometime in the future.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Still working on current projects so in the meantime, I'll still be uploading old fics to this site~ Also, I personally think we were robbed of more Connor & Lafayette interactions.


End file.
